In a sad heart it comes from the eyes
and to the forehead, from an exhausted body.
For millions the medium of life
the taste of heaven, for a parched throat.
Often the protagonist of a mirage
and only a chemical compund in chemistry.
A mountain’s playful release
and a cloud’s meeting with its mate.
A beauty when surrounded by hills
and jewels, when flowing downhill.
Most intoxicating in the desert
most dishonoured in abundance.
Neither science, nor humanity
not philosophy can do without it.
It is the essence of life
and the very reason we are alive.